Duke.

Nay, ten times strange.

Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo,

Than this is all as true as it is strange :
Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth
To th'end of reckoning.

Duke.

Away with her :-)

She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense.

-Poor soul,

Isab. O prince, I cónjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world,

That thou neglect me not, with that opinion

That I am touch'd with madness: make not impossible
That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible,
But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,
As Angelo; even so may Angelo,

In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain: believe it, royal prince,
If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more,
Had I more name for badness.

Duke.

By mine honesty,

If she be mad, (as I believe no other,)
Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense,
Such a dependency of thing on thing,

As e'er I heard in madness.

Isab.

O, gracious duke,

Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason
For inequality: but let your reason serve

To make the truth appear, where it seems hid;
And hide the false, seems true.

Duke.

Many that are not mad,

Have, sure, more lack of reason.-What would you say? Isab. I am the sister of one Claudio,

Condemn'd upon the act of fornication

To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo:
I, in probation of a sisterhood,

Was sent to by my brother: One Lucio

As then the messenger ;

Lucio.

That's I, an't like your grace :

I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her

To try her gracious fortune with lord Angelo,
For her poor brother's pardon.

Isab.

Duke. You were not bid to speak.
Lucio.

Nor wish'd to hold my peace.

Duke.

That's he, indeed.

No, my good lord ;

I wish you now then

Pray you, take note of it: and when you have
A business for yourself, pray heaven, you then
Be perfect.

Lucio. I warrant your honour.

Duke. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to it.
Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale

Lucio. Right.

Duke. It may be right; but you are in the wrong To speak before your time.-Proceed. Isab.

I went.

To this pernicious caitiff deputy.
Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken.
Isab.

The phrase is to the matter.

Pardon it;

Duke. Mended again: the matter ;-Proceed. Isab. In brief,-to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd me, and how I reply'd;

(For this was of much length,) the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter:

مااا

He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupiscible intemperate lust,

Release my brother; and, after much debatement,

My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,

And I did yield to him: But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant

For my poor brother's head.

Duke.

This is most likely!

Isab. O, that it were as like, as it is true!

Duke. By heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not what thou speak'st;

Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour,
In hateful practice: First, his integrity

Stands without blemish:-next, it imports no reason,
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off: Some one hath set you on;
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice

Thou cam'st here to complain.

Isab.

And is this all?

Then, oh, you blessed ministers above,

Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time,
Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up

In countenance!-Heaven shield your grace from woe,
As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!

Duke. I know, you'd fain be gone:-An officer! To prison with her :-Shall we thus permit

A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall

On him so near us? This needs must be a practice.

--Who knew of your intent, and coming hither?
Isab. One that I would were here, friar Lodowick.
Duke. A ghostly father, belike:-Who know, that
Lodowick?

Lucio. My lord, I know him; 'tis a medling friar; I do not like the man had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly.

Duke. Words against me? This' a good friar, belike! And to set on this wretched woman here

Against our substitute !-Let this friar be found.
Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar
I saw them at the prison: a sawcy friar,
A very scurvy fellow.

F. Peter.

Blessed be your royal grace!

I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd: First, hath this woman
Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute;

Who is as free from touch or soil with her,
As she from one ungot.

Duke.

We did believe no less.

Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of? F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary medler,

As he's reported by this gentleman;

And, on my trust, a man that never yet

Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.

Lucio. My lord, most villainously; believe it.

F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick, my lord,

Of a strange fever: Upon his mere request,
(Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst lord Angelo,) came I hither,

To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true, and false; and what he with his oath,

And all probation, will make up full clear,

Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman; (To justify this worthy nobleman,

So vulgarly and personally accus'd,)
Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,
Till she herself confess it.

Duke.

Good friar, let's hear it.
[ISABELLA is carried off, guarded; and MARIANA
comes forward.

Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo ?—
O heaven! the vanity of wretched fools!—
Give us some seats.-Come, cousin Angelo ;
In this I'll be impartial; be you judge

Of your own cause.-Is this the witness, friar ?
First, let her show her face; and, after, speak.
Mari. Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face,
Until my husband bid me.

Duke.

What, are you married ?

Are nothing then :-Neither maid, widow, nor wife? Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.

Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had some cause To prattle for himself.

Lucio. Well, my lord.

Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married; And, I confess, besides, I am no maid:

I have known my husband; yet my husband knows not, That ever he knew me.

Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord; it can be no

better.